


Body, Mind and..

by melanie1982



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Spuffy - Fandom, spike - Fandom
Genre: BDSM elements, F/M, Introspection, Love, One-Shot, Pain, air games, otp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 05:18:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7702231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanie1982/pseuds/melanie1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy keeps coming back to him, to THEM, and needs to figure out why.</p><p>I don't own these characters, and I make no money from this made-up story.</p><p>If consensual pain between two adults offends you, skip this one.</p><p>If reading about air games - temporary asphyxiation/strangling not intended to cause death - upsets you, skip this one.</p><p>I do not endorse, condone, condemn or take any other public stance on BDSM practices. They're simply a very brief part of the story. Safe, sane, consensual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body, Mind and..

Buffy asked herself why - why Spike got to her in ways no one else ever had - in ways no one else ever could. Slowly, the answer rose through the haze of her intuition like a Magic 8 Ball reply.

It was because he always knew what she wanted without her having to ask.

Spike knew when Buffy needed to be gentled and caressed and babied, softly kissed until she was overcome with her need for something more.

He anticipated the nights when she wanted to be worshipped, when his reverent adoration and total obedience meant more than words or kisses ever could.

Spike sensed those times when Buffy hungered to be taken, ensuring that that blurred line between malleable reticence and explicit consent kept her on the edge for hours. He was always ready: ready to fill her, to pound her body with his until she couldn't feel anything but him - and then, to a point beyond that, beyond the pain, taking her to a place where she felt nothing at all. Comfortably numb.

Lately she had found in him a form of absolution. The bites and the bruises he left upon her body signified the suffering and death she had caused, or, at least, failed to prevent. On her knees, face raised in supplication, Spike's cock became a scourge, whipping away her pride, her tears, her sense of self. When the marks faded - always too soon, precious blooms of purple-blue and crimson - she wept.

It was only when she was naked, broken, and without hope, that she found peace. In those moments, piece by shattered piece, Spike put her back together again. Buffy found strength in acknowledging her weakness. Spike's hand around her throat, squeezing until she saw stars, until her own hand let go of his to signal her need for his release, provoked the warrior in her. In dancing on the knife-edge of death, she found the will to live. The blood rushed through her still-beating heart, hard, hot, alive, thrilling them both.

In those moments, against all logic, they were as one - body, mind and soul.


End file.
